


Summer’s Haven

by Maesonry



Series: Entity Reader [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Cute Philip, Drama, Entity Reader AU, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Other, Sad, Suspense, Thriller, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 17:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14574336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maesonry/pseuds/Maesonry
Summary: This place, this Autohaven Wreckers, it is a graveyard. Metal and machine, but the bodies too, hidden in trunks. You approach the crusher, and the man operating it stops. He is tall and wiry, and he turns to you, his face warm, his hands covered in dust. That must be Philip. You wave.He smiles at you, and waves back.You blink. You’ve never had anyone smile at you before; How interesting. You smile back.





	Summer’s Haven

**Author's Note:**

> More rough works for the Entity Reader. I’ll probably make this a series, where the reader meets each killer. Like a meet n greet but with more tragedy

You make it a point to get to know each potential Killer.

Your crows, the ones in the human world, fly around and show you what they see. They show you the potential, the humans that burn brighter or darker– but that is all. It is your discretion that determines if a human is a Survivor or a Killer. 

It is, unsurprisingly, a difficult task. So you make it a point to get to know each and every potential one. And you make sacrifices. You choose the person that might be an excellent Survivor, and turn them into a monster, because you have no choice. 

A difficult task.

As of now, your crows call, fluttering around a small town. They have found someone, they whisper, ruffling feathers and cooing wordlessly. It is a town, just like all the others, but if there is potential, then you will check. And you cannot check when you look so unnerving. 

A quick movement, and you fold in on yourself, stuffing your body into a suit too small. You feel like you’re suffocating, but you know better, and accommodate your form. Two arms. Two legs. Five fingers on each hand, and that is important, but not as important as a human head. You have taken enough humans to approximate the features, and when you look a definition of normal you settle on some cloths as well. 

“I will be back”, you tell your crows, both to reassure and to test your voice. They all tilt their heads and murmur indistinctly, watching as you meld into darkness and disappear into the void.

 

 

The light of the sun always tickles you. You feel the folds of your face twist up, a smile, something rare. The ground beneath you is solid, and you are weighed down by gravity. You do not mind. It is novel, and so you walk, the fabric of false clothing moving across illusionary skin, a spring in your step.

The town you are in is not small, in all technicality, but to you everything might as well be. And the humans! There are many of them, tall and short, old and young. They are filled to the brim with hopes and dreams, and you feel your stomach yawn dangerously. If you were younger, you would‘ve lashed out, taking the chance. But, you don’t. Instead, you keep smiling, and continue to walk. Some of the humans smile at one another, but never at you. You‘ve never had a human smile at you, but again, you don’t mind. You keep moving, following the calls of your crows, the directions they give you. 

You walk a little ways. The people thin out, the buildings become crumbled, and you feel almost at home, in the emptiness of it all. 

Stop, your crows say, and so you stop, standing in front of yet another building, identical to all the others and yet not. Autohaven Wreckers, the sign says. You tilt your head up, squinting at the letters, mulling them in your mouth. 

“Autohaven Wreckers,” You murmur, and your smile slips as your voice cracks. You never could get it quite right. You register the sound of metal scraping, and turn your head. There, in the doorway, stands a man. A large man.

“Hello there, little woman. Something wrong?” He asks. His voice is deep and his face grizzled. You look him over, sifting through the potential he has. He is a killer for money. Not what you need.

“I’m just looking,” You say, shifting your voice, disguising the drone. The man smiles, but not at you. It is more of a grimace, and you are intimately familiar with a grimace.

“Well, let us see if we can’t help,” He decides. You nod, and follow him, his hand on your shoulder.

The inside of the area is not any better than the outside, but it is still a comfort to you. Not a comfort is the contact. You shrug the man’s hand off, and he relents. 

“The name is Azarov,” The man, Azarov, says. You stare blankly, until it dawns that he also wants a name in return. You do not have one, or rather, not one that he would want to hear.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” You settle with. You continue to look at his potential, but there is nothing there. Nothing you want. You wonder if it was a false positive, if the crows were wrong. But there is still the sound of movement outside, so you decide to keep looking.

“I’m here to see someone,” You say. Azarov stares hard, then sighs, stepping over to the side door.

“Philip! Someone here to see you!” He shouts. The sounds outside stop for a moment, and Azarov turns back to you, “He’s by the crusher. Be careful not to hurt yourself out there.”

You hurry back out. The sunlight prickles, but you don’t relish in it. You have to find Philip, after all. You step over crushed scrap and metal, cars that have been turned into cubes and small things. The scent of dried blood nudges your nose, hidden under decay and garbage, and you hum a realization. This place is a graveyard. You continue to walk across the shards and the ground, until you stop. Another man, standing by a machine. The man is tall yet thin, his face warm, and as he turns to you, he smiles

He smiles at you. 

You blink. You’ve never had anyone smile at you before. How interesting. You smile back.

“Are you Philip?” You ask. The man dusts off his hands, extends one. 

“Yes ma’am,” He replies. His grip is strong, but gentle, “What can I do for you?”

You can see his potential. He is the one you were looking for, the one that burns as bright as the sky. He is filled with so much determination, so much hope, that it almost hurts to look at. If you took him, he would survive and thrive and fight, until his dying breaths. He would be the perfect Survivor. But... 

But... suddenly, you don’t want to. Like a cobra seized around your body, locking you in place. You don’t want to make him a Survivor. This is the first time you’ve wanted something, and you want... a friend. Is that the word? Someone who smiles at you, laughs, does not scream in your mere presence? And, a Survivor could never be your friend.

“I...” You blink back to reality, suddenly trying to figure out something to say. You have no excuse, no reason to be at this store, but, you don’t want to leave. Suddenly, and stubbornly, you want to spend more time with this man. So you quickly sort through your recollections and pull out an idea, take a chance, “I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date?”

You wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing, as Philip falls silent. Your head feels scrambled, and you can’t stop thinking about how he smiled at you. But then, Philip smiles again. Somehow, it’s even more radiant than before. And somehow, it makes you feel even worse. Maybe not worse in the sense of the word, but, something you don’t understand. 

“I don’t think I could say no to someone like you,” Philip offers, a pleasant laugh that twists the knife, “I work late tomorrow, so maybe the day after that?”

“Yes!” You nod, “That would be good! I’ll...meet you here.”

Philip nods with you, but there is something more in his movement now, a sort of excited anticipation. The solar flare of hope almost blinds you, so you turn away. You feel the agitation of your hunger snapping at you– just take him, be done with it, and that strange feeling– ah. Guilt. There it is. You wrangle whatever misplaced guilt you have, shoving it away, and busy yourself with...ignoring it. 

“See you then,” You reply, and walk away, Philip humming some wordless tune as he returns to the machine. Crushing cars. You catch a glimpse of red at the end of one trunk, and say nothing. You keep walking, until shadow meets light, and you disappear.

 

 

You are the Entity. And you are...conflicted.Never, never ever, have you wanted. You’ve felt hate, hunger, and in rare cases, pity. But, you have a duty, and you must perform it, so you do. 

But now... you feel selfish. Not selfish enough to even consider the idea that you can leave Philip alone, no. That would be taking it too far. You feel selfish, and you mull it over, sprawling out. Crows murmur indistinctly, fluttering past, and you grab one, running one of your hands through its plumage.

“What do you think?” You ask, looking down at it. Gold eyes stare back at you. It is a fools task, thinking they might have the answer to your plight, but you take base comfort in the companionship they give.

Wait.

You stare at the crow again. Companionship? That was it. That is what you lack. You’ve no companions, in the void. Not in the Killers, not in the Survivors. But, the last Killer is dead now, and the Survivors gone. That is, after all, why you went to find Philip. And if that is the case, then maybe you aren’t being selfish. Maybe it is simply time for a new breed of Killer...

You let the crow go, and turn away, hundreds of arms brushing together happily. Now all you have to do is go and learn more about your friend, Philip, and then bring him back. You do have a date, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entity: ah. I need friends  
> Philip: [shows basic kindness]  
> Entity: this is. Perfect. I must make him into a Killer so we can be friends forever now
> 
> Also known as: eldritch Entity struggles with the fact that it must murder but it just wants friends :((


End file.
